


Practical Research

by Elenchus



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, Ficlet, Gen, M/M, One-sided pining, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 10:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15817371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenchus/pseuds/Elenchus
Summary: Enjolras encounters something sweet. So does Grantaire.(For the prompt: "Enjolras and Grantaire having ice cream")





	Practical Research

Enjolras responded to the frantic knocking at his door expecting a call to action or a comrade in need – but not Grantaire, panting and sweating and clearly having run over in the full summer heat. Enjolras’ heart went out in sympathy on that point; he’d been trying to escape the heat himself, with little success. Grantaire was holding out…Enjolras was not in fact sure just what Grantaire was holding out. Some sort of pastry, rolled into a cone. It looked a bit like a waffle aspiring to life as a crepe, with a white sphere sitting inside it.

“It is ‘ice cream,’” Grantaire proclaimed proudly, running the English words together to sound like a new word of French. “You see, one of Prouvaire’s admirer’s traded him a large bag of ice in return for one of his little books – no idea where the fellow got such a thing in August, Jehan just says he thinks he’s a djinn – and Bahorel had fresh eggs from the hens behind his apartments, and Combeferre and Feuilly were working together on translations of Jefferson’s works and found the recipe, and as he took the idea from Paris I thought it only meet Paris should take it back.” Grantaire’s smile was almost shy. “I assure you, it has the proper revolutionary pedigree.”

He held the odd thing out to Enjolras again; “Quickly, or else it will melt away and all our labors with it.”

“Thank you,” Enjolras said automatically, politely, unsure what to think. He took the cone and looked at it more closely. “You made this?” It looked like something he might see in a shop window, small and delicate and lovely.

“I confess, the culinary labors were largely mine, but I could not have done it without help.” It almost seemed like Grantaire was blushing – Enjolras dismissed the thought as absurd. “You may trust it; many minds conceived it and many eyes watched the tasks. Joly provided the vanilla beans, which I own concerned me at first, but he swore they were from his kitchen and not his laboratory. The waffle iron was Bossuet’s, which concerns me all the more, but is no matter at present. But come now, or it really will melt.”

Enjolras nodded understanding. “I’ll go get a spoon,” he said, turning to go back to his rooms. He was startled to feel Grantaire’s hand on his arm holding him back – and Grantaire looked more startled still when Enjolras turned around.

“Ah, well, that it, it is the innovation of the cone – I found it in a pastry book, not my idea you know – but you needn’t use an implement. Unless you’d rather. I’ll go and leave you to it, shall I?” Grantaire was certainly blushing now, and Enjolras couldn’t account for it. Grantaire seemed to have forgotten his hand was still on Enjolras’ arm, as he hadn’t removed it.

“How is one to eat it then?” Enjolras asked. He had to admit to some curiosity.

“Er. Ah. I may state again, I only report as a scholar, a known reader of books, or at least a known listener to known readers of books…”

“Yes?” prompted Enjolras.

“You’re supposed to lick it,” Grantaire said at last.

“Hmmm.” That sounded rather inefficient, but Enjolras didn’t mind giving it a try. He touched his tongue to the soft sphere inside, and was pleasantly surprised to find it cold. It was sweet, but not so sweet as to be cloying. It tasted like vanilla and sweet cream. He took another lick – inefficient, decidedly, but not unpleasant at all.

He looked back up at Grantaire, only to find him turned away and studiously examining the street. “Grantaire?”

Grantaire turned back around, even redder than before. “Ah, yes? I was just, just thinking of something dreadfully important, I’ll figure out what in a minute.”

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” Enjolras told him. “I imagine it was difficult to make even with help. Would you like some of it now?” Grantaire certainly looked like he could use some cooling off. It was a very hot day after all.

“No, no, no, thank you, decidedly not.” Grantaire shook his head firmly for added emphasis.

“Well, if you’re sure.” Enjolras took another tentative lick of the ice cream, and Grantaire jumped back a full step.

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, am I keeping you from something? Did you want to bring this to someone else next?” He rather hoped the answer was no. He’d decided he liked it.

“Yes, very busy,” said Grantaire, rushing through the words, “but I’ve more of that batch at home sitting in ice. Just make sure you eat yours before it melts. Your obedient et cetera, I’ll see you soon I’m sure, goodbye!”

And with that, Grantaire took off in the direction of – of absolutely nothing, as best Enjolras knew. Well, Grantaire did seem to have a great many haunts. He put the matter from his mind and worked at finishing the important task at hand.

It was, he concluded, a very nice sort of thing indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> As best I can tell, ice cream would have been reasonably commonplace by the 1830s, but not yet truly ubiquitous (as it apparently was in the latter half of the 19th century). I decided it's not impossible for Enjolras to have never encountered it, given his personality. The first reference I could find to an ice cream cone was from 1825 (and it was indeed a waffle cone), so that really might have been surprising and novel even to people more connected to the "modern" world than Enjolras. 
> 
> Thomas Jefferson did really bring an ice cream recipe back from France; there's no particular reason for Grantaire and friends to have used that recipe rather than any other except that they're all a bunch of big history nerds.


End file.
